A Flawless Imperfection
by Maeggy
Summary: The path to the Dark can be seductive and nearly impossible to resist. Does Hermione have the strength needed for such a feat? Or is she somehow just damaged enough to succumb? Rating will probably go up in later chapters. Not HBP compliant.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The world was not the same.

Blackness ruled the sky and it seemed as if the very Earth itself was rioting. Volcanoes in distance lands spewed their filth into the clean air, filling vast areas with sulfur and ash, spreading across the sky until the sun was blotted out. Earthquakes ruined homes, brought stone and mortar crumbling to the shaking ground below. Crevices formed in once picturesque landscape. Storms raged and lightning flashed nearly every day. Mother Earth was punishment personified.

Chaos reigned, and the war had not even truly begun.

Yes, there were deaths; murders. Hospitals were filled, children orphaned and handicapped. Dumbledore, the stronghold of the Light, was, for once in his vast lifetime, unsure. Any plan that was made had potential weakness, room for error. And error was not something they could afford. Balanced on the edge of blade, they were, and one wrong move, no matter how insignificant it would seem, would bring about ruin.

People were scared, though they did not admit it. No one knew who they could trust. Friends became enemies in the blink of an eye, and, in some rare cases, enemies became friends.

The Order of the Phoenix had to be as careful as ever and they had a handful of unplottable places that were still safe. Few new all the locations and safeguards were everywhere.

Hermione Granger, against the urging of others, decided to stay at Hogwarts to continue her burgeoning career as a Professor, instead of hiding away in some safe house on in the woods. She helped the Order as much as she could. Or, in most cases, as much as they would let her. It was hard for the older members to see more than Hermione Granger, the student, though she hadn't been a student in over six years. It was frustrating for her, as much as she told herself that it didn't matter. She wanted to think they had enough of a handle on things to not need her, but she knew that wasn't true. She knew how tenuous their hold was, and for her not to be able to lend her brain was, in some respects, maddening. The men and women, though few they were, in the Order tried to convince her that the less involved she was, the less of a target she would be. It was a lie and she knew it. She had been best friends with Harry Potter all throughout their years at Hogwarts and that would forever paint a target above her head. They didn't want her, she knew. Figuring that she would be more of a hindrance than a help. Oh, they asked her help when they had to. When things got too hard and they needed and extra brain, or, perhaps, when they needed to her to develop a new potion or spell, something to aid them in battle.

They used her, and she knew it. But, for that tiny, insignificant bit of time, she felt appreciated, however false and fleeting that feeling was. It was an addiction, a drug that needed to be fed.

Harry Potter was welcome into the Order with open arms. A veritable party was thrown when the boy-hero joined. He insisted, in his infinite stubbornness to be involved in any mission he could, anything that would help bring about the end of the Dark. And anything Harry wanted, Harry, for the most part, got. It did not make as much sense to Hermione that he should be part of such dangerous missions. For wouldn't it be too dangerous, should he get injured or, perish the thought, even killed? Wouldn't it be better for _him_ to stay behind, stay safe until the final confrontation, whenever that may eventually be?

Ron Weasley, too, was welcomed, though not as heartedly. It was expected for him to become a part of such a group. His mother petitioned other members for her beloved, youngest, son. Because, if it were not for the friendship between him and The Boy Who Lived, he would have faded to the background, behind his brothers' successes, as varied as they were. And he was thrilled to be involved. Sometimes, regardless of what they had been through while at Hogwarts, Hermione was of the opinion that Ron viewed it all as a game, something almost…trivial. Some greater adventure for him to run off on with the great, Harry Potter.

And, so, Hermione continued on to University, pursuing her love of learning and knowledge becoming the youngest Professor at Hogwarts at the tender age of twenty-three. She took up the post of History of Magic after Professor Binns decided it was finally time to move on, to no longer stay grounded to the legendary school. During her first year, she helped publish a Compendium to go along with Hogwarts: A History. The once boring class soon found itself full of inquiring student minds no longer falling asleep on their desktops. Her love of the subject and school was obvious, bringing a new light to the usually lifeless topic.

Life, in the now dreary world, went on for her, interspersed with rare secret Order meetings. Her potential, still great, had for the most part been ignored by the greater good.

It didn't go unnoticed by all, and, unbeknownst to her vastly intelligent mind, she was watched. Studied. Plans were formed and thrown out. Made again and fine tuned.

If the side of Light, the side championed by Dumbledore and Harry Potter, didn't see fit to want her, another, more sinister, would not make the same mistake.

For the greatest weapon was not necessarily just locked inside a man's wand, but could be found hidden away in a muggleborn's mind.

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**I'm oddly pleased with this chapter, and for those of you have read other Author's Notes of mine, you know that is a rarity. The idea for this story just hit me over the head earlier today and would not leave me alone until I wrote it down. I really hope you like this, I think it's the darkest of my HP fics so far. I have never tried a Severus/Hermione 'ship before, so we shall see how it goes. Please review! I would love to know what you think so far; if it's good, if it's bad, if it's just okay... Feedback is a much appreciated thing.  
**


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One  
**

"Alright, everyone," Hermione called out over the rush of noise that accompanied the ringing of a bell somewhere deep in the castle, "I want a three to four feet essay on the decline of the Welsch Green dragon's between the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries."

Groans erupted across the large room.

"Oh, come now. It's not that bad, you have until Monday and today is only Wednesday. That gives you four days, not including the rest of this one. That should be plenty of time to get it done," she said as she gave pointed looks to some of her students. They were the ones who could be trusted to wait until Sunday evening to even begin. She had known enough of the type during her own years as a student, had even been friends with some, so it wasn't surprising that she should recognize the signs; the hurried facts, the minimal detail, the inaccurate use of quotations. It was a wonder that some managed to have passing grades at all, and she attributed that to the fact that she was very lenient when she knew she didn't have to be.

Hermione shook her head as the last of the students emptied the room, a small smile playing the edges of her mouth. The smile, as tiny as it was, did not last long however, as she gazed out the window into the dark, ash filled sky, a faint glow to the clouds indicating that, yes, the sun did still exist.

Sighing, she put together a stack of papers that needed to be graded for her First Years and excited the room. She took her time as she walked down the hall and descended the many staircases in her journey to her rooms. It was still a mystery to her, why they placed her in the dungeons of the castle, but she wasn't one to complain, and in all honesty, she had gotten used to the dark space. Very few people called on her down there, giving her plenty of time to work on her own research and projects, and she was rarely interrupted by prowling students in the dead of night. Well, she attributed that last one to the fact that Severus Snape, the resident bat of Hogwarts, resided just down the hall from her. No student, or faculty member for that matter, was stupid enough to disturb him, for his temper was well known.

Severus Snape, she sighed, was an interesting enigma of a man. She had not had many conversations with him, mostly because she tried to stay out of his way, but she knew he was there, knew he was just a hop, skip and a jump away. Oh, they spoke, yes, and most of their talks were centered around some aspect of academia that they had a disagreement on. Be it a Potions theory or, sometimes, a philosophical question. Then, there was the one time they had gotten into a rather heated argument about the war. About what was considered good and ethical for the side of Light to be doing, what with some of the tactics they employed to get information. In some respects they were just like their darker counterparts, even if they did rationalized it beyond reason. It was thrilling, she thought, to argue with him, because it was always refreshing to debate with someone who used their brain. Unlike other people she could have mentioned, who blundered through arguments, as well as their lives, as it seemed half the time.

When they were in the same room, as rare occasions as they were, she had the oddest sensations that he was watching her. His eyes burning a hole in her back. It, too, was something she had gotten used to. Just another oddity of her far from normal life. Yes, Professor Snape was strange man, indeed.

Hermione shook her head of her thoughts as she reached the door to her chambers. The trip to the bottom half of the castle got faster as time when on, at least it seemed that way when her body was on automatic and her mind was elsewhere.

"A word, Professor Granger, if you have the time," a voice sounded from just behind her.

She jumped at the sudden intrusion into the quiet of the hallway, barely catching herself before all her carefully piled papers went flying about the corridor. She should have been used to it, really, either that or she would have had numerous heartaches by the time she had reached twenty-one years of age.

Taking a deep breath to calm her rapidly beating heart, she replied, "Yes, was there something I could help you with?" She turned to face him, papers clutched to her chest as she took a good look at him.

It would be a lie for her to say that she had never been attracted to the man. True, he was not classically handsome, or really handsome at all as some would say, but to her, for reasons she couldn't pinpoint, she found him attracted. From the tip of his hooked nose to the roots of his, more often or not, greasy hair. But, she reasoned, what he didn't have in terms of physicality, he more than made up for it in attitude. That quiet strength, the dark humor, and his voice (oh, Gods, his voice…) were just a small number of the things that drew her to him. She hid it well, of course, for she knew any advances would be rebuffed, probably with cruelly accurate barbs and cutting comments. And a stupid woman, Hermione Granger, was not. Besides, what time did she have to be spending on dead end romances.

Her independent studies took up much of the remainder of her time and the rest, what little of it there was, was spent trying to figure out ways to give the Light an advantages; even it her efforts were in vain.

Many would think that his greatest power lay in his wand, and in his superb ability to play both sides, but she knew the truth, that it lay in the vast arsenal of words and phrases that his mouth could spew forth at a moments notice. All were unpredictable and all could cause immense pain and suffering; and that was with nary a hex among them.

He looked at her for a moment before giving his response, his gaze direct and probing, as if he knew all the secrets hidden in her very soul and he was in the process of unlocking them all. He eyed her belongings, then, "If you could join me in my office once you've…sorted yourself, I would greatly appreciate it."

Hermione didn't think he appreciated anything, let alone the…honor of her company. "Of course, Severus. I'll be there in a moment, if that's alright."

He nodded, then turned abruptly to walk back in the direction that he had come from.

Holding in her laughter, she turned, whispered her password and entered her sitting room, placing the essays on an end table near the couch. She couldn't help but to be a little confused as to why Severus Snape had sought her out because he had never done so before. But, nonetheless, she had agreed to meet him and meet with him she would.

Changing out of her teaching robes, she slipped on a much more comfortable set. They were a lovely shade of midnight blue and though they weren't the most pricey of robes, they were well-made she adored them regardless. All the while she was pondering the reasons that she would have been summoned by the reclusive Potions Master himself.

Puzzle, indeed.

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**Hello everybody. I hope you're all having a good start to the week. I really wanted to get an update posted before I go back home for the holiday break. So, please _please_ let me know what you think. I would really appreciate some feedback. It's an authors best friend you know. :o)  
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